The Lights of Mandalore
by EwanMcGregorIsMyHomeboy12
Summary: Upon Satine's return to Mandalore after Voyage of Temptation, Obi-wan spends his time there meditating on feelings ling buried and memories best forgotten. But under the lights of Mandalore, many things can happen. M rated outtake of In the Lights (T rated). Works as stand alone. Please R and R.
1. Chapter 1

With her body pressed so close to him, her lips clinging to his as though if she moved, he might vanish into the darkness, permeated only by the floating lights that surrounded them. He moved on instinct, on desire, on memory; his hands slid over her back to latch onto her hips as hers twisted into the ends of his hair and brushed past the thick hairs of his beard, brushing against bare skin on the back of his neck.

She deepens there kiss first, though somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there is no resistance left in him. He feels like his youth has returned to him, his memories of their nights spent together before this, of all of their kisses stolen in private moments between them, of her so recent confession of love. He felt her tongue slip past his, her hands tugging him down as she explored all the recesses of his mouth. It was electrifying. His muscles tensed and molded closer to hers, the hard planes of his war-racked body seeking out the warmth and softness she radiated to him. For a fleeting moment, the nostalgia almost overwhelmed him, and he wondered how different there life would be if she had asked him to stay.

She broke their kiss, and he realized how out of breath he actually was, panting in her ear. "Not to rush you," He said quietly, feeling her react to his words, "but if we want to keep this private, I suggest we move to another room." He knew when speaking them the suggestion that his words were laced with. He also knew that if this was going to continue, if they were going to give back in to all of the feelings they had harbored for these years, that she would not wait. He felt her step back, and he released her, disappointment swelling in his chest. It would be too hard for her, then, to give back in to feelings she had kept hidden.

But then, her hand slid into his, and after a long gaze, she stepped towards her bedroom, pulling him with her. The Jedi training inside of him cringed, but with the will of the force, he pushed it away into the feelings of resentment, rage, and frustration he had felt since the start of his return to Mandalore. He did not leave room in his heart for regret as he watched Satine move, the floating lights that decorated the castle illuminating at her touch. Her body was colored red, green, blue, yellow, and white; and there were few things he wanted to do more than look at her, take in her beauty and grace.

Her bedding was blue, the same color as the Mandalorian waters that surrounded the city, and he recalled that the first time they had been together, there only physical comfort had been a set of thermal blankets and the dim light of a pair of glow rods. But he didn't want to think about that now, he wanted to focus on her hands untying and peeling apart the panels of his Jedi tunic, his utility belt lain carefully across a chair. He wanted to focus on her lips, kissing his fingers softly before she moved his hand back to her hip. He wanted to focus on her other hand on his bare chest, pressing him backwards until he on her bed and she was straddling him into it, her lips ready to kiss his again.

And they stayed like that for several minutes, his body reacting to every touch of her fingers, every kiss from her lips over his now exposed skin. "You've been through a lot since we were together, Obi-wan." Her fingers were tracing the scars that cut across his chest, feeling each white and pink curve and edge with a careful finger.

"Spoils of war, I'm afraid." He was worried what she might think; his scars were marks of fighting, of his torture on Rattatak. She disapproved of such things on principal, and he braced himself for a chastisement, or a rejection.

"Marks of valor, Obi-wan." She corrected him softly, and he felt the same love he had felt for her fr so long swell up in his chest. Her fingers were replaced by her lips, kissing their way along his chest, her hands moved across his abdomen, feeling the thick-lined muscles there. She stopped her hand at the waistband of his pants and made eye contact with him again. He pulled her back into another kiss, his hands moving to push her jacket back off of her shoulders, then tugging at the bottom him of her shirt.

She obliged him, pulling it over her head, her blonde hair coming back down looser and freer than he had seen it in a long time. He sat up on the bed, her legs moving to wrap around his waist as his lips came back over hers. His tongue moved over hers, tasting her fully as his hands danced over the bare skin of her back and stomach and sides, tracing small swirling spirals into her skin. He could feel her hips grinding forward into his body, and his body reacting accordingly. A low, guttural groan came from somewhere in the back on his throat as he broke their kiss and moved his lips to her neck.

He moved his hand to her bra line, and after waiting on her gentle nod, he undid the clasp. He peeled the straps forward down her arms and tossed the garment over where her shirt had been discarded on the floor behind them. Every primal part of his body pushed him to stare at, kiss, and grope her breasts. But he moved slowly, kissing the corner of her lips before leaning forward and pressing her down onto the top sheet, his weight between her legs. "You're beautiful." He said simply to her, his eyes locked on hers, and she got the message. This was more than sexual attraction, more than a culmination of physical desire, though it would certainly satisfy that. She smiled up at him, and for the first time in more than two decades, he allowed himself to look down at her bare upper body.

His body reacted to hers in the same time as hers did. His thumb moved of her breast, her nipple hardening at his touch. His watched her face for a moment, her eyes closing, a soft moan coming out of her lips as he touched her. Then he moved his lips down to her breasts, kissing them softly, moving his fingers over the one his mouth couldn't see to. He took his time, reveling in her body, each soft noise she made or soft touch as her fingers moved over his back and twisted into his hair shot bolts of electricity through his blood and to parts of his body he knew she could feel growing against her.

After he placed a last kiss to the valley created between her breasts, his hands oved to undo her belt, where he slid it out of her slacks in one swift motion before undoing the zipper and tugging them down her waist. She helped him, kicking them off into the dark oblivion that was the room behind them. The bare skin of her legs was painted different colors by the lights, the pattern covering them changing as he moved his hands over the smooth curve of her calves and thighs. He moved backwards, his hands tugging at the top of her panties to pull them down. She watched him, a small smile on her lips. He remembered that she always exuded confidence, even the first time they made love, she had been comfortable enough in her body to make him comfortable in his.

Her underwear joined the rest of their clothes on the floor behind him, and as his fingers grazed her inner thigh, he could feel the heat radiating from her. "We've never been able to take our time like this, love." He said, grinning up at her before moving down to kiss the inner part of her thighs.

"I'm glad we can now." She almost whispered, her voice slightly strained as his fingers moved between her legs. She was wet, and keening for his touch against her. His body was tense, as desperate for her as she was for him, but he made himself take it painstakingly slow, moving his fingers despite her protest and replacing that touch with his mouth , closed over her. He moved his tongue against every part of her he knew to, her reactions of gasps and hushed moans telling him more than he could ask from.

He kept it up, giving her as much as he could manage until he could feel his own body becoming more and more wanton as she burned at his touch. His pants, normally loose fitting and athletic, were becoming unbearably tight, but as he moved back over her, kissing up her stomach, and moving back to her breasts, she must have felt the same way. "Lean up, Obi." He leaned back, and she quickly undid the strings of his pants. And then she hurriedly pushed his boxers off as well, her eyes dilated, as she took in his body under the multicolored lights.

Wanting, he guessed, to return his efforts, she took him in her hand, stroking him in long, languid strokes. He groaned into her neck, letting the sensation of her touch roll over him. "Obi-wan." She said, and he could feel the desperation in her voice. "I have to know something." He knew, in the back of his mind, what she was going to ask. He reached down and took her wrist in his hand, stilling the motions waves of pleasure shooting to his brain.

"I haven't, Satine." He said slowly, meeting her eyes. "Not since you and I." If there was something stronger than lust in her eyes, it was only love. He had made a promise to himself, to the memory of their love for each other, that he would be faithful to her and their memories. He couldn't bear to ask the same question to her, the childish part of his brain not wanting to know that answer.

"Neither have I." Again, she answered his unspoken thoughts, and he realized how well she really did know him, his thoughts, his feelings, his actions. Some part inside of him soared, and she moved her hand around him one last time before moving to latch her hands around his neck. "I had suitors, but none could compare to you, Obi-wan." She smiled, and tugged him downward. But before their lips could meet, she spoke to him softly. "Make love to me."

He kept their eyes locked together, and in an almost painfully slow movement, slid into her waiting body. His entire body felt electric, every nerve ending ignited as her body pulled him in deeper. He hadn't felt this good in years, maybe never, he thought as he started to move his hips slowly. She was whispering things into his neck, but he couldn't concentrate to make them out, taking them as urgings as he arms tightened around his upper body and her nails dug into his back.

He felt every sensation, taking his time to savor each thrust into her body, feeling her tighten the more he thrust. He kissed her throat, one of his hands moving between them to brush against her breasts. The more he moved inside of her, the more his body urged him to go faster, his hips settling into a steady rhythm where he could, in the foggy realm of thought, hear the bed squeaking under them. She was moaning, and he realized, after a few minutes, that he was as well, every noise he made disappearing into the smooth curve of her throat and shoulder.

He could feel his release building, with every thrust into her, every moan and every grasping touch. But he held back, wanting her to get their first. He didn't have to wait long, twenty years apart had pushed them both forward into almost desperation, and as eh thrust one more time into her wanton body, he felt her clench involuntarily around him, his name leaving her lips in a cry that, combined with the feel of her, pulled him over the edge. He stayed inside her, saying in a hurried tone, everything he had ever wanted to say to her, letting her name slip from his lips like it was a miracle he was parlay to.

When they split apart, he didn't go far, collapsing on the bed next to her, their heads on her pillows, their bodies slightly sweaty and gradually untensing. He watched the lights floating above them, feeling the pull of sleep coming over him. Watching them hover, trading colors in the air space, for him there was no Clone War. No Order. No pain, suffering, or fighting. There was Satine, the pair of them in the throes of lovemaking, absorbed only in each other and in the moment they had finally been able to share again together.

"I love you." He said finally having his breath back. She laughed and rolled up, planting her feet on the bed.

"I love you, too, Obi-wan." She picked his tunic up off the floor, his eyes following her body across the floor. "Stay here tonight." She might have meant it as a question, but he didn't take it that way. He rose from the bed as well, a little color touching his cheeks as he pulled back the covers and blankets, leaving the bed open for them.

"I'd love to." He force-called his underwear and pants to him, thinking she might give him his tunic until she pulled it over her head, the fabric ridiculously large on her small frame. He just grinned, and climbed back into bed beside her, wrapping an arm around her, and burying his face in her now tousled blonde hair. She laughed gently, entwining her fingers with his, and as he watched all the lights but a few of the soft white ones faded out.

"Goodnight, Obi." She said softly, and he realized she was almost asleep, and how tired he was, his eyelids thick.

"Goodnight, Satine." And he closed his eyes as the lights floated gently above them.


	2. In the Garden

(A/N) I didn't mean for this to become a two part thing, however, after writing chapter 2 of In the Lights, I felt the need. Little different take. Satine POV for one thing. Hope you enjoy, read and review please, I love to know what you all think.

She liked kissing him. The ginger hairs of his beard were not the prickly spindles that she thought they would be, they were actually soft when they crushed up against her face. She would have preferred that he didn't have it, it was not to her taste, but she figured, as their mouths pressed closer together, that she could learn to live with it. He held her close, and she recanted all of her memories from the night before, her body urging to be with him again.

They had eaten their lunch through quiet conversations, speaking of old times, of new ones, of all missions that he thought she might enjoy stories form. He told her of a small Twi'lek girl named Numa whom he had carried on a mission, defending from droids, and how she had clung to him for almost an entire day. It was a beautiful thought of him, almost separate from the war, existing as an almost father figure. His hands came around her back, never breaking their kiss and he lowered her into the soft blankets there were resting on, his body supporting hers.

The thought of him as a father, most prudently as the father to her children he could have been if she had asked him to stay on Mandalore with her all those years ago. She pushed the thought away, pulling back from his lips to look into his gentle eyes above her. She wondered if he knew how beautiful he was, encapsulating, and strong; she doubted it, brushing the backs of her fingers across his jawline, she realized what a pity it was that he did not realize such.

"I have to admit," He spoke in a soft tone, barely audible over the whisper of rushing water through the filter of the pond behind them. "This is much easier without all of the exalted headdresses, your grace."

"I have my reasons for not wearing such, Master Jedi," She teased back, reaching around his thin, but solid body to unclip his belt from behind his back. She saw the glint of his lightsaber catch some of the paneled light, and decided not to put it to far away from them, laying it gently on the edge of the blankets instead.

"Yes, and I appreciate them." He kissed her cheek, lying on his side next to her to pull her into another kiss. Her hands weren't idle as his ghosted over her sides and brushed through her loose hair, they undid the strings of his tunic, and the panels came apart in her hands. Gently, slowly, she pushed them off of his shoulders, balling up the coarse fabric and tossing it into some odd corner of the garden. She pulled back from him to admire his body in full light, actually being able to see him whereas the night before had been a mixture of feeling and display under the multicolored lights of her room.

She moved her hand down his bicep, over his hardened chest, and abdominal muscles. Although she had always found his mental capacities and maturity as what connected her to him, he had always been physically attractive. Now especially, when his serious, but sarcastic demeanor finally matched his age, and she could finally express the love she had always felt for him, be it only for a few days.

His lips went to her throat, and arousal sent jolts through her body, his hands snaking around to undo the zipper and small ties of the back of her dress. She moved around, letting him take the dress off of her easily, where he laid it over one of the sets of rocks around them. She then turned, and seeing an opportunity to change things a bit, pressed her hands into his chest, his body connecting with solid ground and she clambered on top of him, straddling his waist into the ground. His eyes were stretched a bit wide, but he was smiling up at her, his auburn hair pushed back off of his forehead.

She shifted her hips against him, feeling the hardness between his legs growing against her body. She kissed the tip of his nose, then the corner of his lips, then moved steadily downwards, keeping her hands ahead of her lips on their descent. His body curled into her touch, soft noised coming from him, his hands locked tightly onto her hips. Her hands undid his pant strings, and with his help, she pushed them off of him. She moved her hand against him over the fabric of his underwear, groans he didn't bother to hide coming from him.

Her own body reacted in time with his, seeing his arousal, knowing that she was the cause of it was exciting. His hands moved over her sides, cutting what were now electric paths across her skin, to undo the clip of her strapless bra. IT came off in his hands, and joined her dress near them. She watched him as he took in her breasts, his fingers moving over them, kneading the skin their softly, tracing patterns over the soft skin of her nipples until they hardened against the pads of his thumbs.

She savored the feeling of him bringing her pleasure, touching her breasts, his hands moving over her back, and then down to her legs. She moved her hands again, this time to tug at his constricting boxers, pulling them down his legs as eh kicked them off. Instead of touching him, as she had down, she pressed her hips into his, the rough feel of her panties, barely containing the heat she was radiating, into him.

In a very un-Obi-Wan move, his hand slid from her hip and grasped her butt. She suspicioned it was just a reaction to the feel of her motions, wanting more contact, more friction, but she had to admit that she didn't mind the feeling. It was empowering, to know how much he wanted her, just as much, it seemed as she wanted him. But as she looked down at him, he moved his hand, his cheeks red.

"Sorry..." He mumbled, his voice hoarse, and his accent more pronounced that usual. "I didn't mean to do that."

"Its fine, Obi." She leaned down, her breasts pressing into his body, their lower bodies brought even closer together, and pulled him into another kiss. His hand went o her lower back this time, holding her close, and she savored the feeling of his touch. His tongue was urgent against hers, she could feel the need and the fire behind his kisses and his touch. As they stayed together, one kiss turning into two, then three, then four, both of his hands came free from her hips, sliding the last barrier between them down her legs and unlike the careful way he had been laying her clothes, tossed it behind them. "I like you touching me, Obi-Wan."

"I would hope so." His trademark sarcasm caused a laugh form them both, doing strange things to the way their bodies were connected. She leaned back from him, and took him in her hand, stroking him lightly. He watched her, as, in one motion, she slid onto him, her own body slick with desire, his body taut with arousal. They groaned together as their bodies came together fully, him sliding to fit perfectly inside of her.

"I don't think," He said, looking up at her, "that's something you can get used to." She felt inclined to agree with him, but didn't trust words. Instead, she started to move slowly, drawing him in deep to her, and releasing him in a pattern that was almost maddeningly slow. She ground her pelvis into his, her nerve endings igniting with every slight move that she made. His hands went to her sides, supporting her as she moved her hips steadily. After a while, she felt his hips start to move in time, in the opposite motion of hers.

His subtle movements met every move of hers, the pair of them moving in sync, their bodies coming together with groans twisting from his chest to mingle with moans that slipped from hers. She started to move faster, leveraging herself on his chest in an effort to guide their motions. He moved with her, speeding up his pace, as felt the tight knot in her stomach start to twist, to beg for release. Her eyes went down to him but his were shut tight, reveling in their coupling.

She slid her hands over his body, and slowed down slightly, wanting to savor this time between them. As badly as she wanted it, as badly as her body was pushing her to draw this to completion, she wanted to spend more time being with him, together, before things had to change again. She felt his hands move from her sides to her hips, then from her hips back to her butt, pulling her closer to him as they rocked together.

His eyes opened, and he leaned up to kiss her, their bodies moving almost feverishly together, the sounds of the garden drowned out behind her as her thoughts moved only to him; his hands, his lips, his tongue, his body. He filled her again with a sharp thrust, and she heard herself moan out his name, their kiss broken for her to speak against his lips. She kept moving in earnest, feeling his body respond to her muscles tightening around him. Before she was done riding her own high, his own primal moan of release came to her ears, his body moving slowly, then stilling inside of her.

He pulled her into another kiss, arms going back around her back to lay them side by side again. Their lisp stayed together as their bodies separated, the overwhelming feeling of closeness, of contentment, of pleasure racking through both of them. For a few long moments, lost in the simple throes of being together in every physical way, they shared no words. Instead, he took her hand, entwining their fingers together.

"I think there may be a problem." She said softly, and he looked back at her, his eyebrows arching in surprise. She sat propped up on her eyebrows, and confirmed what she thought she had seen. His tunic was lying at the edge of the pond, the fabric soaked thick with water. He laughed, and she could the deep reverberations of his chest against her body.

He used his free hand to spread it out below them, settling back, reaching for his boxers and pants. After they had been sufficiently redressed, him from the waist down, her with her dress pulled back on; she rested her head on his chest as he leaned back onto the ledge behind them.

"Things have changed," she said softly, into the skin of his chest that had slowed down as his breathing had relaxed.

"No." He replied, holding her closer, and she was aware of his eyes looking down at her. "We have changed." And the truth was there between them, they were not the Jedi Padawan and young rebel they had once been, making love when they had a free moment to themselves, stealing touches and kisses and thoughts when they finally managed to be alone together so long ago. No, now they were both more and less than that.

She was a leader, a ruler, an icon for peace and neutrality. He was the face of the Galactic Republic, one of the top generals in an ever-elongating war. They had grown form their adolescent time together, where spent passion was almost exclusively physical, and their loe had been new. It had matured, and hardened, as they had. Now there was love, but it was tinged with loss, with grief, strengthened by time and distance.

"I'm not sure that's such a bad thing." And although he did not answer her, she was sure, from the tightening of his arm around her, that he agreed.


End file.
